


Flip a Coin (the universe is watching)

by Heiipi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager, Implied Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer, M/M, Minor Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, OOC Ymir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heiipi/pseuds/Heiipi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He envied Krista and Ymir’s relationship, no matter how petty and bitter that sounded. For them everything was easy. The girls could be together, hold hands, hug and kiss… and they wouldn’t be judged because of that, nor considered less feminine for being gay. They were free. He and Jean, on the other hand… Always separated, always hiding, always in the shadows… “Not here, they might see us”, “not now, my teammates are waiting”… Always running, always pretending… Marco hated that! He wanted to be with his boyfriend, to hug him all the time, to kiss him whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted. But he couldn’t, and that really sadden Marco. He wanted Jean, he wanted to be with his boyfriend, he wanted to be free."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some random words, a very bored me flipping a coin to decide if I should study or sleep, and voilà – a selfish fanfiction written on a spree that fulfills most of my snk’s headcanons – Jean is a footballer, Marco is a photographer/journalist of the sports section, and Ymir and Marco (our freckled duo) have this strange friendship going on. Still, I hope you enjoy it.

**F** ootball was taken seriously in Wall Rose High. Every time there was a match, the days before it would be spent in anxious eagerness, and on matchday the whole school would stop and fill all bleachers around the pitch. WRH’s football team was one of the best, with marvelous players, and they deserved all of the high school’s support; especially on that day.

On that Friday afternoon the whole school was gathered around the pitch, watching the semi-finals matchup against their major opponents. WRH absolutely _had_ to win that game – in order to pass to the final, and also to prove their worth over their old time rivals. Unfortunately, up until now that had been proved a difficult task – there were only ten minutes left of regular time, the players were exhausted; the game was still tied with no goals, but the visiting team seemed dreadfully closer to score one. All round – and in – the pitch the atmosphere was tense, and both players and supporters were feeling uneasy.

In the bleachers, one of the most nervous supporters was Marco, who by then had eaten all of his nails. Restless, with eyes glued to the pitch, he swigged his body back and forward on the uncomfortable plastic chair, impatiently wiggling his legs.

‘Jeez, Bott, give it a rest!’, complained Ymir, tired of the constant trembling going on next to her.

‘Sorry, I can’t help it’, he apologized.

The girl sneakily glared at her classmate and snorted.

‘You’re such a fanboy!’

‘I like football’, he argued, feeling even more anxious. There was something about Ymir’s tone that left him wonder about the true meaning of her words. His classmate was usually quiet and distant, seemly to silently judge everyone. Frankly, _she was scary_.

‘No, you like Jean Kirstein’, she simply whispered.

For the first time, Marco completely forgot about the game and, with a jolt, turned his brown eyes to Ymir, his cheeks all flustered and his words incoherent.

‘Wh-What?! Wait… I don’t… What are you even saying?’ He let out a nervous giggle that only worsen his position.

‘Drop it, Bott. I’ve known about you and Kirstein for a long time now.’

Perplexed, he covered his red face with both of his hands, shaking his head. He thought they were being _discrete_!

‘ _How?!_ ’

‘I spot the little things, you know? A shy stare, a little smile, the unnecessary touches, the apparently occasional meetings…’ Marco rolled his eyes; of course Ymir would know all about these subterfuges, even though she and Krista were not particular discrete. ‘And for some time this left me curious, since Jean is not the nicest person around.’

‘He _is_ nice!’

‘To _you_ he is’, Ymir stressed, ‘so he must really like you.’

Marco let out a series of senseless words until he decided to shut up, huddle up in his seat and just watch the game, because _good Lord have mercy, I’m so embarrassed right now!_ Thus, he was more than glad that Ymir had dropped the subject for the time being.

Back on the pitch, Jean, the team capitan, was making his way into the opposite team’s 18-yard box, ball on his talented feet and focused eyes on the net. He seemed unstoppable! Would he score a goal? Everyone was either standing up or sitting on the edge of their seats. After all, Jean was one of the best players on the competition.

Unable to stand still, Marco got up from his seat. Jean was ready to shot the ball! Yes, we would score! He was about to… _but not!_ The bleachers exploded in protests and roars. Jean had been tackled, a foul had been committed inside the box.

‘Penalty!’, they shouted on the bleachers, and the referee also said so, blowing the whistle and pointing to the small white circle in the middle of the penalty box.

Startled, Marco devoted all of his attention to Jean, who was slowly getting up after the tackle.

‘Is Jean hurt?!’

‘Is he okay?’, some girls sitting bellow squeaked.

Yes, of course he was fine. Marco knew his boyfriend too well – he was being overly dramatic, showing that the penalty shoot-out was well earned. And now, Jean himself was taking the ball into his hands, and placing it in the penalty mark in front of the goalposts. That was it – the kick that could decide the whole game! Strangely enough, instead of putting his game face on and preparing for the kick, Jean leaned down once again, burring his hand on his right sock.

‘What the hell is that moron doing?’, Ymir inquired, squinting at the crouching Jean on the pitch.

Marco shrugged his shoulders and simply stated:

‘What he always does – trusting the universe.’

 

With only two minutes of regular time left, that kick from the penalty mark would decide the game. If Jean scored, they would advance to the final; if he missed, the draw would stand, and both teams would have to face overtime. The problem was that WRH players were already too tired, so they would most certainly fall at their opponents’ feet. There was no other way – Jean _had_ to score.

On his shoulders, the team capitan bared all of his fellow students’ hopes, and all of his teammates’ dreams and efforts. That was what being a capitan meant, and Jean had to look that responsibility in the eye. For any other player, shooting that decisive penalty could be too stressful, dreadful or even impossible; but not for him! Jean had the universe on his side. Leaning down, he inserted his hand on his right sock and retrieved from there a coin. Not just any coin, but _the_ coin, the one that would answer his question, and help him make up his mind in the most difficult situations.

Still, clenching down, pretending to tie his boots’ laces, Jean threw the coin in the air and caught it on the back of his hand. _Tails I shot left; heads I shot right_ , he silently said, almost like a prayer.

Finally, Jean stood up with a fierce flame burning in his eyes. Taking four steps back, he glanced at the net and filled his lungs with air. The referee blew his whistle and Jean immediately, without a second thought, ran towards the ball. The coin had landed on tails; the universe had decided he should shot left, and he would act accordingly. It was simple as that; there was nothing to be nervous about – the universe was watching.


	2. Chapter 2

**A** s usual, Marco arrived earlier than any other of his classmates. Founding the Economics classroom empty, he choose a seat near the window, so that he would have something different to look at when he got bored from the teacher’s mumblings.

With a relieved exaltation he sat down and got the school’s newspaper out of his bag. The front page was, of course, dedicated to the football team’s victory on Friday. Under the headline – _Last Call To Glory_ – there was a big colored image of Jean enthusiastically celebrating his goal after the penalty shot, followed by his teammates.

Marco smiled fondly at the front page, until a familiar voices rescued him from his thoughts.

‘Front page?!’, exclaimed Ymir looking over Marco’s shoulder at Jean’s picture. ‘As if his ego wasn’t big enough already.’

‘Good morning’, Marco greeted in a tense voice, still with his eyes on the newspaper. What was up with Ymir? Seldom would she give others a glance, so why was she talking to him all of the sudden?

‘Our capitain should be thrilled about his victory’, she commented very cynically, sitting beside Marco.

‘It was the whole team’s victory.’

‘Make sure our capitain doesn’t hear about that, otherwise he might sulk’, Ymir advised in a whisper, as if she was telling a child a secret. ‘You know that for Kirstein this is _his_ show, a one man gig.’

Marco slammed the newspaper on the table and gave Ymir an outraged glare.

‘What’s your deal, Ymir? Is there something you want to tell me? Do these conversation have a purpose? Or you just enjoy badmouth my boyfriend?’

Ymir shrugged her shoulders, as if Marco’s outburst was nothing special, and slid the newspaper from under the freckled boys’ nose, so that she could read the article. And while she did, Marco, steaming from his eyes, kept fidgeting his leg and suppressing his anger. Ymir was such a hypocrite, not wonder why she didn’t have any friends! _I don’t even know how someone as sweet as Krista can put up with her_ , Marco thought.

‘Wow, Kirstein is so greatly praised on this article!’, she exclaimed, returning the newspaper to Marco. ‘I wonder who wrote it…’

Marco felt his cheeks redden as Ymir gave him an accusative look. Automatically, he tried to deviate the conversation.

‘You obviously hate Jean and football as well, I wonder what you were doing at the pitch that Friday afternoon. Certainly it had nothing to do with the fact that Krista was on the cheerleading squad…’

‘It had, obviously’, Ymir answered. Apparently she wasn’t sensible to sarcasm. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t find me anywhere near that pitch. Football players are _way_ too overestimated, especially in this school.’ The flame in Marco’s eyes intensified. ‘Everyone takes this so seriously, I wish you’d just chill. It’s just school sports!’

‘It promotes union, health and gives the school a good image, so yeah, football is important for us – whether we’re watching or playing it -, so let us be, okay? I’d never guess you were one to bother yourself with others’ life.’

‘I’m too selfish for that, right?’

‘It was not what I meant’, Marco retorted with an apologetic look. He was not mean, not even with those who enjoyed making his life hell, but Ymir was getting on his nerves lately.

‘I know. You’re a good guy, you would never say something like that.’

‘Are you mocking me?!’

‘I’m not, Bott, relax’, she smiled awkwardly. Ymir would never smile, Marco remembered, but that changed when she met Krista.

‘Are you going to the Christmas Prom?’, Marco questioned, trying to regain control of the conversation.

For the first time, Ymir seemed embarrassed.

‘Yeah… I guess… I’m going. And you?’

‘Yes, I’ll be the photographer. Are you going with Krista?’

‘It’s none of your business!’, she snapped, moving uncomfortably on the wooden chair.

‘It _is_ my business ever since you decided to nag _me_ about _my_ personal life. So, are you going with Krista?’

‘Yes, I am! There, happy?! I asked her this morning to be my date. Jeez, I didn’t know you loved gossip that much.’

Crestfallen, Marco faced his old school desk. _No, I’m not happy_ , he admitted to himself. He envied Krista and Ymir’s relationship, no matter how petty and bitter that sounded. For them everything was _easy_. Some students, like their classmates, knew they were a couple; others just presumed, but most didn’t care. The girls could be together, hold hands, hug and kiss… and they wouldn’t be judged because of that, nor considered less feminine for being gay. Yes, they were slightly discrete, but even if they weren’t they wouldn’t have to face cruel prejudice. They were free. He and Jean, on the other hand… Always separated, always hiding, always in the shadows… “Not here, they might see us”, “not now, my teammates are waiting”… _Always running, always pretending…_ Marco hated that! He wanted to be with his boyfriend, to hug him all the time, to kiss him whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted. But he couldn’t, and that really sadden Marco. He wanted Jean, he wanted to be with his boyfriend, he wanted to be free. He wanted what Ymir and Krista had!

‘Is Jean taking you to the prom?’, the brunette asked with a sharp look.

Marco chuckled bitterly and shrugged his shoulders.

‘I’m not a girl, he’s not _taking_ me anywhere!’

‘And that’s the problem, ain’t it?’

‘No, I like being a boy, thank you very much’, Marco retorted with cold sarcasm.

‘No, idiot! The problem is that he’s not taking you to the prom’, she rephrased. ‘And you wanted to go. No that you wanted to dance, or whatever. You just want to be by his side, as any other couple.’

‘When did you become so perceptive?’, Marco wondered rudely, with a defensive attitude.

Ymir leaned towards Marco as if she was about to punch him, but then she seemed to calm herself, and her hands began fidgeting nervously the tip of her shirt. Shyly, avoiding Marco’s eyes, she mumbled:

‘Krista… she changed things. She calms me down, brings out the best of me, and… yes, I’m more perceptive now towards other people’s feelings. So yeah, you can stop that attitude because I know you’re feeling down. Krista was the first to notice, but she was too shy to speak with you about such personal matters. But she cares about you, about _both_ of you idiots. She cares too much about too many people, and I love her for that, but she also gets hurt, and I don’t want that kind of suffering for her, you understand?

‘I’m-I’m sorry, Ymir’, Marco was able to mutter while his jaw fell to the floor. Ymir was _so_ different! ‘Thanks for wanting to help, and it’s very sweet you care about Krista like that, but… just let me be, okay?’

‘Listen, Marco, let me just tell you one last thing, then I’m out of your hair.’

‘What?’

‘Be the person you want to be; it doesn’t matter if you’re good or bad, as long as you are you. Don’t waste your life pretending to be someone you’re not, while you could be out there loving someone. If people don’t accept the real you, then fuck them, they don’t deserve you at all!’

‘Thanks, Ymir, those are good words, but I’m fine with myself and with my sexuality’, the freckled boy stated very proudly. ‘You should be telling that to _Jean_!’

‘And you think he would listen to _me_?’

‘Of course not’, Marco had to acknowledge. Stubborn careless Jean seldom listened to what others had to say.

‘Would he hear _you_?’

‘I… I don’t know’, Marco admitted again, sadly.

‘Then perhaps he doesn’t deserve you as well’, concluded Ymir, opening her notebook.

‘I thought you were trying to help’, Marco cried, his voice shaky and disappointed, as if he had been betrayed.

‘And I am.’


	3. Chapter 3

**O** n the chaotic corridor Marco was (finally!) able to spot Jean’s blond head, surrounded by his friends, as always.

‘Hi, Marco!’, Jean waved across the corridor. ‘Great article on me and the team!

‘Yeah, man, it was really amazing!’, Connie exclaimed, enthusiastic as usual. ‘It’s really amazing to read such words, and the photos were like… amazing!’

‘Th-Thanks…’, Marco stuttered, shyly scratching the back of his neck. ‘It was a great win, congrats to all of you.’ His look then drifted towards Jean. ‘I knew you’d win, as always.’

Jean beamed fondly, as if he and Marco were the only ones there, happily lost in their own world.

‘Thanks, Marco.’

But then along came Eren, and the magic that had settled him between the lovers was shattered.

‘Can we see the other photos you took?’

Marco came back to the real world with a jolt.

‘Hum… Yeah, sure. Just swing by the newspaper club office.’ Once again, he turned his attention to Jean, who seemed so distant and unapproachable. ‘Hey Jean, could we—’

‘When can we drop by?’, Eren butted in once more.

‘Anytime’, Marco grunted. ‘Listen, Jean—’

‘I want to update my _Facebook_ picture. Are there any good photos of me?’, Connie wanted to know.

‘Marco’s a photographer, Connie, not a plastic surgeon’, mocked Jean with a loud laugh.

‘Jean...’, Marco whispered.

‘Are you still hoping Sasha will go with you to the ball?’, Eren asked skeptically.

‘Please, _she_ was the one who asked me to go!’, Connie bragged. ‘And you, Eren? You still dreaming that Mi—’

‘Connie!’, Eren shouted, his checks suddenly flustered. ‘Shut up, man.’

‘ _Tsh_ , aren’t we feisty and lout today’, Jean commented.

‘Jean!’, Marco shouted, tightly gripping Jean’s forearm right there, on the corridor, in front of the whole school. _Crap_ , Marco cursed as he let go of the arm of a very surprised Jean. ‘Can we talk? I mean… an interview. Can we schedule an interview? _Now_?’

‘Yeah… sure’, Jean agreed, although very reluctantly.  

In a fast pace, Marco crossed the corridors, closely followed by Jean, toward the newspaper club office. Once there, Marco let the footballer in and quickly locked the door behind them.

‘What’s up, Marco?’, Jean inquired with a frowned brow. ‘You seem so—’

Marco grabbed the back of Jean’s neck and pushed his boyfriend to his embrace, mouths crashing in a passionate kiss. It had been _so long_ since they had some alone time! How Marco missed Jean’s warmth, his taste and scent!

‘I’ve missed you’, Marco confessed, his breathing fastened by the intensity of their last kiss.

‘Me too’, Jean smiled, placing a peck in his boyfriend’s lips. ‘But I’m always around.’

‘That’s the worst kind of distance’, Marco sighted.

‘Is everything okay, Marco?’, Jean questioned, caressing his boyfriend’s freckles. ‘You seem so down.’

‘It’s nothing, really, but… I was wondering if you’re going to the ball.’

‘Of course. You’re going to be there as well, right? As a photographer?’

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the ball as all the other students.’

‘Exactly’, Jean nodded.

‘So… like… do you want to come with me?’, Marco finally let out his aching question, checks all red and fingers playing nervously with the hem of Jean’s jacket.

‘Thanks, but there’s no need. I already have a ride.’

Marco shook his head negatively and ran and exasperated hand through his back hair. His face was so hot that it felt like his freckles were being cooked.

‘I’m not offering a car lift, Jean, I’m asking you to be my pair at the ball!’

‘ _What?!_ ’, Jean belted, surprised.

‘I mean, we don’t have to dance…’

‘And you want me to escort you to the ball? To be your pair? Like… as a couple?!’

‘ _We are a couple, Jean!_ ’, Marco snapped, angry with his boyfriends surprised look. ‘We should be all allowed to do what other couples do!’

‘We _should_ , but we _can’t_ , Marco. I’m sorry, but we’re not like the others.’

‘Oh, because we’re gay?’, inquired Marco, as the blond nervously scanned the obviously empty room. ‘C’mon, Jean, we’re in the twenty first century!’

‘But people are still mean’, Jean reasoned, ‘and disrespectful. They’re not expecting _this_ for us, so they’d get in our way.’

‘No, they’re not expecting “ _this_ ” – and by “things” I mean being gay – from you – since you’re such a popular attractive footballer -, so your reputation would be destroyed!’

‘And you would want that for me? You know I love football, do you want me to lose that? Look around, Marco, a footballer cannot be gay! I’d lose it all – my reputation, my credibility, my position as a team capitan. Are you that selfish to want me to jeopardize all of this?’

No, he wasn’t. Marco would never do anything that could hurt Jean in any way. He thought his boyfriend was being selfish for not admitting their relationship, but now he realized that Jean had a lot at stake.

‘I’m sorry, you’re right, Jean. I didn’t think this through…’

‘It’s okay, I’m sorry too, for shouting at you like that’, apologized Jean with a sad smile. ‘I love you, Marco, please don’t forget that, even if things get complicated.’

‘I won’t’, he promised. ‘I love you too…’

‘ _But…_?’, Jean inquired with a frowned eyebrow. He knew Marco very well; there was something he wanted to say, although he seemed to lack the courage.

‘Would you trust the universe?’, Marco asked, looking into Jean’s eyes.

‘Always’, the other quickly answered. ‘But what do you mean with that?’

‘Every time you’re unsure or anxious about something you always flip that coin of yours, and every time you do, you make up your mind about the dilemma.’

‘Of course! The universe always settles the score’, declared Jean very seriously.

‘Would you flip the coin for me, then? To decide something like “heads I’ll take Marco to the ball; tailes we’ll just keep on pretending”?’

Jean sighted and apprehensively shook his head.

‘Why is this ball so important to you?’

‘Because I’m tired of pretending – pretending to be someone I’m not, pretending not to love you… It hurts me, Jean, and I wish to know if the universe is willing to help us.’

‘You know what we’re risking, right?’, Jean, with a stern countenance, wanted to make sure, while retrieving the coin from his front pocket.

‘I know I don’t have a reputation to lose, whereas you’re risking much more, but—’

Jean silenced Marco by gently rubbing his thumb on his lips.

‘It’s not only that, Marco. Exposure could break us apart; the people—’

‘We’re stronger than that’, Marco firmly stated with an intense glare. ‘And I believe people are better than that.’ He peered to the coin on Jean’s palm. ‘Let’s see if the universe agrees with me.’  

‘I sure hope it does, Marco.’ Jean let out a shaky exaltation. _The universe always settles the score_ , he repeated to himself, playing with the coin in-between his fingers. ‘So, heads it’s a date; tails it’s just another day of pretending?

‘Exactly’, Marco agreed, crossing his fingers so that it would be heads.

‘Let’s do this, then’, declared Jean, confidently kicking the coin several centimeters in the air with his thumb, and then easily catching it in between the back of his hand and his left one; he was so used to the procedure he obviously trusted that lucky coin _way_ too much!

_God, universe, whatever! Let it be heads!_ , Marco prayed silently, as both boys hold their breath while Jean removed his left hand.

_Tails_.

‘Can… can you… would you flip it again for me?’, Marco begged after a while, in a broken voice.

‘Sorry, Marco. I love you, I really do’, Jean said, and he sounded heartbroken as well, ‘and I’d love to give you what you desire and deserve, but… the universe is watching.’

‘And it always settles the score’, said Marco, gloomy, understanding that there was no turning back.


	4. Chapter 4

**‘S** o, you let that moron decide the future of your relationship with a piece of copper?’, Ymir asked, widening her surprised brown eyes.

‘Not our future, it was just the prom… And that coin is _really_ good! Jean made many crazy decisions because “the coin told him so”, and he never once failed. Nor did the coin, for that matter’, he added sadly.

From rooftop, Ymir peeked at the people on the school yard down there, who seemed so small and insignificant. And maybe they were.

‘Well, that’s fucked up, even by my standards. Kirstein is crazy because he relies on a coin to give him answers, but that’s understandable – he was never a bright one to begin with, and his head must had been tackled a lot, but _you_. I thought you were sane! You’re even crazier than he is for tagging along!’

Marco shrugged his shoulders, as if everything was indifferent. In the past days, he had drown himself in a reassuring numbness, but Ymir seemed to verbalize all thoughts he wanted to keep out of his mind. Why was he even talking to her in the first place? When had they become such intimate friends? Loneliness can do strange things to people; the crazy and ironic thing is that loneliness attracts other lonely people; nevertheless, everything remains lonely as ever.

‘So, Kirstein said he loved you, but judging by his actions, I’d say he loves football and his reputation even more. And although he trusts you, he trusts a coin even more. Do you think he’s having an affair with that coin?’, Ymir wondered with a smile, pocking Marco with her elbow. Apparently, that was meant to be a joke, but Marco was having a hard time finding something worth smiling for these day. ‘Jeez, Marco, cheer up!’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not the best company right now.’

‘No shit, Sherlock!’

‘I don’t even know why I’m talking to you, especially about these stuff. We were never that intimate. Is this gay solidarity or whatever?’

Ymir grinned her teeth and grunted something unintelligible. Then, facing Marco, she coldly explained:

‘No, I think they call it “friendship”, but what would I know, right? I’ll always be the selfish bastard.’

For the first time since the coin incident, Marco let out something similar to a smile, which was a dismissive snort.

‘I guess we’re all selfish bastards in the end. I mean, it’s _our_ life after all, it’s normal to put our needs ahead others’, right?’

‘Damn right, Bott!’, the girl agreed, friendly smacking Marco’s shoulder. ‘But you see, one day our needs will always come second, or perhaps even last!’

 ‘Do your needs already come second?’, Marco wondered.

‘Ever since I meet Krista, even before I knew I was in love with her’, she admitted with a shy smile. ‘At first is a scary feeling, but she puts me first as well, so we can walk side by side.’

Hearing Ymir’s words, Marco’s mind immediately took him to a much happier place, in a much happier time, even though he didn’t know it then. 

 

Hungry, he was rushing to the cafeteria, when some strong careless idiot crossed his way. It was Jean, of course, who was already pretty popular in a time when Marco was a mere photographer for the sport’s section, but already in love with Jean’s talent.

‘Hey, watch it!’, Jean complained.

‘I’m… I’m sorry’, he said, although _what the hell, it wasn’t even my fault!_ , but his  irritated thoughts were interrupted by Jean’s soft voice.

‘You’re Marco Bott, right?’

‘You… You know my name?’, the freckled boy asked, feeling his cheeks fluster.

‘Sure!’, the footballer replied with a big smile. ‘You’re always around the pitch, and every week I check the newspaper to see your work! You’ve got some amazing photos there!’

 _Wow_ , such compliment made the photographer’s heart jump with joy, but still… Intrigued, Marco squinted his eyes at the talkative handsome boy.

‘Are you praising my work… or yourself?’

‘Your work, obviously! Your photos bring out the best of me! Maybe sooner than you think you can become a journalist as well.’

‘Thank you’, he smiled, happy as a puppy. ‘I’m trying, really!’

‘Then you’ll succeed. Working hard is the key – trust me, I know!’, he stated confidently, shoving his hands on his pockets. ‘Damn it, I thought I had it’, he cursed in a low voice.

‘Did you lose something?’

‘My lunch money, I guess’, he sighed.

‘Do you want me to lend you some?’, Marco asked, grabbing his own lunch money.

‘And what about you?’

‘Oh, I… I’ve already had lunch’, he lied. ‘There, have a good lunch!’

‘Thanks, man!’, Jean chuckled, looking at the coins his new acquaintance had dropped in his hand. ‘How interesting! I’ve never seen this coin before, it’s so beautiful and shining! Either way, thanks a lot. I really can’t skip a meal, there are big games approaching!’

‘I know!’, Marco said maybe a bit over-enthusiastically.

‘Will you be there to watch me?’, the blond inquired.

‘Yeah, sure! I-I mean – you and the whole team!’

Jean laugh happily and place a hand over Marco’s shoulder.

‘Thanks, we appreciate the support! I’m going then. I’ll make sure to find you later to pay you back.’

And against all Marco’s expectations, on the following day Jean _did_ find him, and gave back the money Marco had borrowed – or at least some of it.

‘I’m sorry, there’re twenty cents missing, but I’ll pay you.’

‘It’s okay, really’, said Marco very dismissively, putting the coins in his wallet.

‘No it’s not! Let’s have a coffee, shall we? So that I can pay you those twenty cents, what do you say?’

Trying hard to sound indifferent and cool, Marco retorted:

‘Well… okay, if you insist. I guess I’m free.’

And so they went and had a coffee, and then another, and another, until that they didn’t need the coffee excuse to be together. After all, they had so many things in common that they got along really well even before having their first coffee. Everything seemed so natural and perfect between them that their relationship evolved sweetly and smoothly… until Jean gave the first step and kissed him. _I wondered if he asked that damned coin whether he should kiss me or just dump me!_ , he asked himself while bitter tears we forming in the back of his eyes.

 

‘I love Jean, and he loves me, isn’t that enough?’, Marco questioned, strongly hoping that Ymir would just say “yes”. But the girl didn’t ever say the things he wanted to hear, did she?

‘It’s not. Not if he doesn’t put you first, as you do. That way you’re only tiring yourself chasing after him, and you’ll never be happy.’

‘So what should I do? Keep running until I catch up with him? Quit?’

Ymir shrugged her shoulders. She had already said too much, shared too much.

‘Sorry, Marco. There’s nothing more I can do for you’, she said, patting him of the back before leaving.


	5. Chapter 5

**A** fter Math class, Marco strolled to the pitch. WRH’s football team was there, training, preparing themselves for the final happening within two weeks. Quietly, Marco sat on the bleachers and watched their training session, distant from other students.

Even in trainings Jean excelled his performance. He was intense and focused, acting as a true leader, giving advices to his teammates, but always goofing off during relaxation exercises. Why did he had to be like that? If he wasn’t beautiful nobody would notice him. If he wasn’t an amazing player nobody would know him. If he wasn’t the team’s capitan nobody would talk to him. Of course Marco loved these traits on his boyfriend, but that was not the reason why he had fell in love with him. Jean was so much more than the handsome jock everyone believed him to be… and Marco couldn’t have any of it! He couldn’t have neither the outrageously looking-looking football star nor the adorkable sensitive boy.  And that was _so_ unfair. _Does the universe_ ever _settles its score?_ , Marco doubted.

As the players left the pitch in the end of the training session, Marco approached Jean with pen and notebook in hand.

‘Hello’, grated Marco.

‘Hey, you’, Jean smiled awkwardly. They hadn’t really talk ever since they decided to bet their future on a coin.

‘May I ask you some questions?’ Jean gave a Marco a puzzled look, so he quickly explained: ‘It’s for an interview.’

‘Is it really? Or you’re using code-word—’

‘This time is for real. My editor wants me to interview you.’

‘Oh, okay’, Jean mumbled without hiding his disappointment. ‘Can we sit? Under the bleachers?’

‘Maybe it’s best if we sit on actual chairs’, Marco protested. Not that he would mind sitting on the ground; the problem was that the reassuring and hidden space under the bleachers was their special place, where they could be together.

‘I’ve just finished practice. If you want to do this interview now I’m not standing here out in the open. Do you want me to catch a cold and miss the final?!’

Marco rolled his eyes.

‘Whatever, have it your way’, he finally agreed, especially because deep down Marco wanted some privacy with Jean; even if he wouldn’t admitted it, he just wanted to be by his side.

As they settled in the place they both knew too well, Marco began to ask all sorts of clichéd and boring questions that his editor gave him.

‘Who are you taking to the Christmas Prom?’, Marco questioned, eyes on the notebook.

‘Is that question really there?’, Jean wondered, trying to peek at the page.

‘Are you questioning my professionalism?’, the other inquired, and Jean couldn’t know if he was serious or joking.

‘No, not at all’, the blond reassured. ‘I was just surprise by the question. You know I’m shy.’

‘Yeah, right’, said Marco with an ironic smile. ‘So, are you taking anyone?’

‘Nope.’

‘Then why is everybody saying you’re going with Mikasa?!’, Marco wanted to know, perhaps a little too eagerly.

‘C’mon, Marco, there’s no way that question is on there!’, Jean laughed.

‘Could you just answer the question?’, Marco insisted, the pen still in his  hand, harshly pressed against the scribbled page.

‘Are you asking as a journalist? As friend? Or as my boyfriend?’

‘Does it really matter? I’m asking, _period_. Just answered the goddamn question, Jean!’, Marco snapped.

Startled, Jean put some distance between then.

‘Wow, chill, Marco. I’m not taking anyone, of course.’

‘Then can you explain me why all the girls who want to date you believe you’re dating Mikasa? And taking her to the prom?’

‘Because they’re stupid!’, Jean exclaimed, moving closer and placing his  hand over Marco’s. ‘C’mon, Marco, you know I love _you_.’

And there it was – those words, in that place, while Jean hold him so lovely… Marco wanted to push him away, get the hell out of there and put as many distance between him and Jean as possible; or maybe he just wanted to feel the anger boiling in his blood, to cry and to fall apart. But instead he did nothing. Marco just stood there, cold and motionless as steel, staring into nothing.

‘Marco…?’, Jean called with a soft voice. ‘Say something.’ As Marco remained silent, Jean placed a hand over his chest, and leaned forward, staring into his eyes. ‘Please, Marco.’

‘In the beginning it were stupid meaningless questions, like “tails I buy the red t-shirt; heads I buy the grey one”’, Marco began in a low expressionless voice. ‘You used the coin when both scenarios seemed so equally good you didn’t know what to choose, so it didn’t matter how the coin landed, you’d always be happy. But then you began using it during tests, during matches… you begin using that damned coin _every day_ to make important decisions! And now you betted our relationship, _our love_ , in a piece of copper!’

‘Marco, please, try to understand—’

‘Understand what, Jean? That you’re not strong enough to make a decision on your own? That you more easily trust a coin than me? That you prefer to hide yourself rather than being by my side? That you love me, but in the end of the day, fame and football are all that really matter? All that you care about? I’m sorry if I’m being selfish, Jean, but I really need you to think of me first. Because I’ve always put your needs in first place for a long time now, and if you really love me, and I know you do, you have to put me first al well, Jean, you _must_ put me first, otherwise you might lose me!’

‘Marco, slow down!’, Jean pleaded, his head rushing like crazy to keep up with his better half’s words. ‘I’m not making any sense of this!’

‘I’m saying that I need you to think about me, about you, about us for a little, and understand that I love you, and I’ll always love you, no matter what you become. But I can’t keep up with you if you don’t love yourself, if you don’t accept yourself as you are, and keep on pretending that you’re something you’re not just to please the others. Since you don’t love nor trust yourself, you can’t fully love nor trust anyone else, you see? Not even me. So one day you might wake up alone with only that cold coin in your hand, and understand that you left me behind, because even though you loved me, you couldn’t love enough to trust me, and to allow me to stay by your side.’

With hot tears streaming down his face, Marco slid from Jean’s fingers and stood up, feeling lonely and cold while looking from above to the person he loved, feeling so misplaced under those bleachers filled with sweet memories.

‘Thanks for your time’, Marco mumbled, closing his notebook.

‘Marco, wait, don’t go!’, Jean cried, trying to reach out for Marco, who stepped back. ‘Sit down, please! Stay and hear me out.’

‘In today’s Math class my teacher said that in 51% of cases, the side facing up when you toss the coin will return to its original position’, he revealed emotionlessly. ‘Furthermore, heads are usually heavier, so it’s more likely that the coin will land with tails facing up. You see, Jean? The universe never settles its score, but it _is_ watching, so you can’t keep on pretending for much longer.’


	6. Chapter 6

**‘Y** ou’re beautiful’, Marco complimented. ‘Both of you look very beautiful.’

‘Just shut up already, you moron!’, Ymir hissed, feeling so embarrassed and uncomfortable in the dress that Krista had chosen for her.

‘Let him be, Ymir. Marco is just being nice’, Krista reasoned, holding Ymir’s hand. ‘You look so pretty, but I told you that you didn’t have to wear a dress if you didn’t want to.’

Nervously, Ymir kept playing with her hair, looking like a scared little rabbit in the big school salon especially decorated for the Christmas Prom.

‘It’s okay. I’m fine, really. I just wanted us to look good.’

‘You look good either way’, Marco insisted. ‘You’re a great couple.’

Krista giggled and hugged her girlfriend, her eyes sparkling as she stood on her toes to reach Ymir’s freckled check.

‘Thank you, Marco!’, she belted. ‘You look really handsome al well.’

‘Yeah… thanks, Bott.’

‘You’re welcome, Ymir. I owe you after all, since you had to put up with me in the last days. Sorry if I was unkind towards you, I really didn’t mean to.’

‘Whatever’, she muttered, shrugging her shoulders.

‘I’m…I’m sorry, Marco’, Krista stuttered, her porcelain cheeks turning red. ‘I know it’s none of my business, but I always thought that Jean would come around, you know? But don’t lose hope, not just yet. You deserve to be happy.’

‘Thanks’, he whispered.

‘C’mon, Krista, let’s get going and have some fun’, Ymir called, taking her girlfriend’s hand.

‘Yeah, sure’, the petit girl agreed, giving Marco one last sweet look. ‘Have a nice evening, Marco.’

‘Bye, see you around’, said Marco, taking the camera into his hands once again. _I’ll try to have a nice evening while I photograph every other student having fun while I’m working!_

‘Hey, there. Can you take me a picture?’

With a heavy sigh, Marco turned around and faced Jean, who made a simple black suit with a formal tie look like the hottest outfit in the world. The boy felt his heart-racing, but must have been because it was really hot in the salon. _Really hot indeed_ , Marco repeated to himself.

‘So, can you?’, he insisted with that dazzling smile of his.

‘Yes, I can. But I won’t.’

‘Why?’, the blond asked innocently, but that was enough to blow Marco’s top.

‘Go away, Jean! Don’t you have some teammates to be stupid with? Some girls to mess around with?’

‘No, not really. Not tonight.’

‘Then you can just creep around being the idiot you are.’

‘Marco, you’re sulking’, said Jean in a condescending voice.

‘No, I’m not. I’m _mad_ ’, Marco stressed furiously. ‘Can you sense the different? Or do I have to punch you?’

‘There’s no such need.’

‘Well, great then. Have a nice evening!’, Marco exclaimed, disappearing into the mob. Frustrated, Jean slammed his hands against his thighs before he started making his way in the crowd. Pushing and elbowing, the blond followed Marco across the loaded salon, hearing curses and insults as he went. When he finally spotted Marco’s tall dark head, he tightly took a hold his arm.

‘So you won’t take a picture of me?’, he insisted.

‘I know the music is loud, but are you deaf? No means no!’

‘Then would you dance with me?’, he popped the question out of the blue.

Speechless, Marco stared into Jean’s eyes… until he started laughing skeptically.

‘Are you crazy? Or drunk? Or _both_?!’

‘I’m in love, Marco. In love with you’, he declared sweetly as ever, putting his hands over Marco’s collar.

‘Jean…’, Marco whispered, shoving off the other boy’s hands. ‘This is not the place—’

‘You are here, so this is definitely the place’, Jean insisted. ‘Like you said, no more running.’

‘Jean, I can’t do this right now. Just… let me do my job. Tomorrow we’ll talk, okay?’

‘No, Marco, otherwise tomorrow you might be too far behind.’ Marco opened his mouth to protest, but Jean quickly, without even a thought, silenced him with a peck. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’

‘Je-Jean…’, Marco stuttered, livid, only with a fire burning in his cheeks and eyes.

‘You look very handsome’, complimented Jean with a big smile, running eyes hands through Marco’s chest. ‘C’mon, let’s dance.’

‘I-I-I… I can’t. We can’t. The camera…’

With a quick movement, Jean rid Marco’s neck from the heavy camera, and shoved it into a neighbors hands.

‘Here, have this! On Monday return it to Marco Bott, okay? Take some picture if you please.’

The boy had such a ridiculous expression on his face that Jean couldn’t hold back a laugh, while Marco tried to apologize for his attitude, while the blond kept pushing him.

‘C’mon, let’s go somewhere else! It’s too crowed in here!’

‘Jean, are you crazy?’

The blond stopped running and took Marco into his arms, pressing their bodies together to the sound of the music. Marco tried to back off, but Jean stubbornly seized his body, keeping him close and in between his arms.

‘I’m not letting you go’, Jean whispered at Marco’s ear, so close that it sent shivers through the whole length of Marco’s freckled body.

‘I don’t know how to dance’, he admitted.

‘Me neither’, Jean chuckled. ‘These feet are only talented for football.’

‘They’re perfect anyways.’

With a warm smile, Jean looked into Marco’s eyes, then at his mouth, and then into his eyes again. Slowly, he dived into his boyfriend’s lips and kissed him, again and again; with tender and lovingly lips he kissed him ardently, as if it were the first time they kissed, as it were the last time they kissed. Jean had wasted too much time, and almost let Marco get away from his life… he wouldn’t take such risk again.

Oblivious to their surroundings, they continued on dancing through the dance floor, and after the early awkwardness, they discovered that they had some sense of rhythm and sync. Without the need to constantly look at their clumsy feet, they laughed and enjoyed the warmth of their bodies, loving that sense of freedom.

Without even realizing, they had strolled out to a quiet and more private part of the salon, where they could actually hear themselves speak without shouting.

‘Give me your hand’, Jean demanded.

‘Are you going to purpose?’, Marco joked, stretching out his hand. I mean, of course it _was_ a joke, but after that dance Marco wouldn’t be surprised if Jean got down on one knee. _What the hell was happening? Is this all a dream?_ , Marco’s hazy head wondered.

‘Not just yet, I haven’t found the perfect ring. But I have something equally important to offer you’, Jean announced very mysteriously. ‘I mean, technically it was yours to begging with, but I stole it from you.’

‘What? What are you talking about?’, Marco questioned, expectantly looking at Jean.

‘Here.’ Jean dropped a cold metal into Marco’s hand. No, wait, it was a coin; but not just any coin, it was _the_ coin. _Jean’s lucky coin!_ , old and all scrashed and dull.  

‘Why are you giving me _this_?’

‘Well, firstly I don’t need it anymore, but more importantly it was yours, until I borrowed it and then kind of stole it.’

‘Jean, I’m sorry, but I’m still—’

‘C’mon, did you really thought I had lost my lunch money? And then conveniently forgot to pay you back twenty cents?’

With is mouth opened and eyes big as football balls, Marco took a closer look at the twenty cent coin on his hand.

‘Back then… That rare coin you were fascinated with…’

Jean smiled playfully and nodded.

‘ _That_ coin you now have there; it’s really old now, but to me it’s still as beautiful and as shining as in the day you lend it to me.’

‘Jean, after all this time…’, Marco muttered, still dazzled with the coin.

‘I’ve always kept it’, he admitted. ‘Keeping that coin was the smartest thing I had done in my entire life. It gave me an excuse to meet you once again, and when I felt uneasy I just had to feel it in my hand to be reassured.’

‘What… what do you want me to do with this?’ That dammed coin! For so long Marco had hated it, but now it seemed so full of meaning and beauty!

‘Keep it, throw it away, I really don’t care. I don’t need it anymore. I have you, I trust you, and you make me feel reassured. I know I can always count on you. And you can always count on me to put you first, above all my needs! I don’t need this coin when I have you! You’re my lucky coin, Marco!’

‘Jean, I… thank you… I’m really…’ Overwhelmed, Marco laugh at his ridiculous efforts to articulate words. ‘I’m a journalist without words. I love you… and that’s all I can say for now, because I’m going crazy… and you’re saying such beautiful things.’ Marco decided to quit talking and gave Jean a long kiss, one that took their breath away.

‘I appreciate that you’re giving me your coin… my coin, whatever’, said Marco, still trying to organize his thoughts and breathing, ‘but it obviously means a lot to you, so you should keep it. I mean, someday you might need to flip a coin, and you said that I was your lucky coin, but you aren’t going to flip me in the air, that’s for sure!’ Sneakily, Marco shoved the twenty cents coin into Jean’s hand. ‘Here, take it back. It’s yours!’

‘Marco, c’mon…’

‘It’s yours, do it was you please! Keep it, flip it one more time, I don’t care, really.’

Thoughtfully, Jean stared at the old coin, making it run across his fast fingers, as he was so very well used to.

‘Alright, let’s do it this way: heads I’ll love you forever; tails I will love you to the eternity.’

‘Gosh, you’re so cheesy! You’re lucky I love you either way’, Marco laughed with embarrassment.

With a tender smile, Jean flipped the coin into the air one last time, and while it spun up high, he took his boyfriend into his arms, never looking at the coin once again. Silently, it landed somewhere on the dance floor, but none of them ever discovered if it landed on tails or heads. It didn’t mattered after all – they had each other. Indeed, the universe was watching, and _sometimes_ it settled the score.


End file.
